TRAITOR

Nana briskly exited the classroom, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. As she rounded a corner, her eyes caught sight of Ms. Wendy, their former class teacher, gently cradling her toddler. The soft laughter of the child rang through the hallway, a sound so tender it twisted something deep inside Nana.

A strange emptiness washed over her. Family… A concept so distant, it felt like a cruel fantasy. She had no one to cradle her, no warm arms to return to.

Moments later, she found herself on the rooftop, leaning against the rusted railing. The cold wind tousled her hair as she stared at the cityscape beyond the horizon. Slowly, her gaze dropped to her hands—metallic, jointed, unnatural. The faint reflection of the sky shimmered on the surface of her artificial skin.

If only I were normal…

"You always look like you're about to jump."

Nana stiffened. She turned slightly to see Max leaning casually against the doorway, watching her with a curious expression.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his tone light but edged with something deeper.

"Nothing," Nana replied flatly, eyes drifting back to the skyline.

Max tilted his head. "Did your phone go missing or something?"

A dry chuckle escaped her lips. "Phones didn't exist when I was born. I don't need one."

Max's eyebrow quirked. "Really?" A pause. "Then what brings you up here all alone?"

Silence.

Nana said nothing.

Max sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He stepped closer, eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't have a family, do you?"

Her body tensed.

"It might sound ridiculous, but… we're friends," he continued, his voice softening. "And I'll always be around to support you. That's what friends do."

Nana's eyes flickered, but she remained still.

Max grinned faintly. "Besides, this school isn't as pretty as it seems. I just want to survive it—with you. See ya."

With that, he turned and walked away, his figure slowly disappearing down the stairwell.

For a fleeting second, Nana's metallic hand twitched against the railing, gripping it tighter.

Friends…

The word felt foreign. And yet, something about it lingered in the cold air.

Later that evening, Nana found herself sat at the corner of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, staring at the dim light filtering through the window. The room felt empty, as if the walls themselves were closing in on her. A strange sense of numbness washed over her, one she couldn't shake no matter how hard she tried.

Why am I still here?

A sudden gust of wind swept across the rooftop, carrying with it a fluttering piece of paper that smacked right against Nana's face.

Startled, she peeled it off and stared at it.

A photograph.

Of her.

Standing exactly where she was now—on the rooftop, gazing into the distance, vulnerable and exposed.

Her eyes narrowed, scanning the photo for any clue. Then she noticed it: the faint reflection of a lens glinting from below.

Without hesitation, Nana stepped forward, gripping the photo tightly. Her cold gaze dropped down the side of the building.

There.

Two figures, crouched awkwardly behind a low wall near the courtyard. One was frantically checking a camera, while the other was smacking the first on the head, clearly frustrated.

"You idiot! How could you drop it?! Do you know how dangerous this is if she sees—"

"Well, she has it now, genius!"

They froze mid-argument, slowly turning their heads upward.

Eye contact.

Nana's piercing stare met theirs.

The blood drained from their faces.

"Oh, shit."

Without missing a beat, Nana's grip on the photo tightened, crumpling it slightly.

Her mind raced. Reporters? Spies? Or something worse?

She turned sharply, heading straight for the rooftop door.

They were already scrambling to run.

But Nana was faster.

And she wasn't in the mood to be followed.

Nana moved like a shadow, swift and silent.

Before the two reporters could even realize, she was already standing at the corner they turned into, blocking their escape.

They skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with her.

"Ah! I-I—" one stammered, flailing backward.

The other, in their panic, lost grip of their backpack, sending its contents spilling onto the ground. Among the scattered mess, a small, worn journal slid across the floor and stopped at Nana's feet.

She slowly leaned down, picking it up with deliberate calm.

The two reporters froze, wide-eyed, watching her every move.

Nana casually flipped it open.

Her cold expression cracked—just a little.

A small, breathy laugh escaped her lips.

The pages were filled with adorable doodles—chibi versions of herself with exaggerated expressions, complete with little captions like "Mysterious girl on the rooftop!" and "Future exposé: Who is she?"

Mixed between the sketches were blurry photos of her, candid shots of her sitting in class, standing by windows, and, most recently, on the rooftop.

She slowly turned the journal toward them, one eyebrow raised.

"Seriously?" she muttered, half-amused.

The two froze in place, faces turning red in embarrassment.

"I-I can explain!" one of them blurted.

But Nana just tilted her head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Explain, huh?" she murmured, letting the journal close with a soft snap.

She took a slow step forward.

"Go on then. I'm listening."

One of the reporters, a girl with round glasses and a nervous smile, stepped forward, wringing her hands.

"W-we're not… stalking you or anything! Really!" she stammered. "It's just… we're fans!"

"Fans?" Nana echoed, her tone flat, unimpressed.

The girl nodded rapidly. "Y-yeah! We heard rumors about you. People say you've got this… mysterious vibe, like someone from another time. Then we saw that painting in the museum—the girl in the portrait. She looked just like you."

Her companion, a lanky boy with messy hair, leaned in eagerly. "So, we thought, what if you were her? Like, reincarnated or something! That's why we started this journal. We wanted to tell your story!"

Nana stared at them, expression unreadable.

"Oh, yeah…" she muttered, voice cool.

But the boy didn't stop. His eyes narrowed with curiosity.

"Wait… are you wearing her skin?"

Silence.

His friend's face went pale.

"What?! Are you insane?!" she hissed, slapping his shoulder. "You can't just say that!"

But Nana didn't react with anger.

Instead, she chuckled softly.

"The girl in the museum's skin?" she repeated, tilting her head. Her gaze was cold but eerily calm.

"How could that be?" Nana stepped closer, making them instinctively flinch.

"This is me," she whispered, eyes narrowing.

"Maybe…" she paused, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "just maybe, it's all a coincidence."

She slowly handed the journal back, fingers brushing against the girl's trembling hands.

"Keep your little stories to yourselves," Nana murmured.

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her steps echoing in the corridor.

The two reporters stood frozen, clutching the journal tightly, their breaths shallow.

Neither of them dared to follow.

Nana's footsteps echoed softly down the dim corridor as she slipped back into her dormitory. The door clicked shut behind her, drowning the hallway in silence.

She leaned against the door for a moment, her fingers brushing over the edge of the journal she'd quietly stolen.

The corners of her lips lifted slightly.

They didn't even notice.

Crossing the room, Nana sat at her cluttered desk, the glow of the desk lamp casting sharp shadows across her face. She carefully placed the worn journal on the table, fingers lingering on the cover before flipping it open.

The first few pages were filled with handwritten notes and newspaper clippings, but one page made her pause.

A sepia-toned photograph stared back at her.

A young girl, dressed in a sharply pressed military uniform—Japanese-American Military Corps, 1935. Her posture was proud, her eyes cold and unyielding. The name beneath the photograph:

Fujinami Akari.

Nana's eyes darkened as she skimmed the biodata. Dates. Funeral services. A life summarized in neat lines.

But then she turned the page.

A black-and-white photograph of American soldiers from 1939 filled the paper. In the center, standing side by side, were two figures: a stern-faced Andy Sullivan and the unmistakable face of Akari.

Her breath caught for a moment.

The resemblance was undeniable.

She flipped again.

Another page.

Side by side, two photographs.

One was Akari, still in uniform.

The other… was her.

The caption below the images read:

"American folk with a striking resemblance to a legend."

Nana stared.

Then, she laughed. A low, dry chuckle that filled the silent room.

She slowly closed the book, the soft thud echoing.

"A legend, huh?" she muttered under her breath.

Her reflection in the darkened window caught her eye.

For a moment, she wasn't sure if she was looking at herself…

…or someone else entirely.

- the next week, everyone was busy preparing for the report card day while Nana was surrounded by students whose getting updated with latest viral tiktok video face resemblance of her and Akari

- She was on her way to she school hall to prepare herself getting an award biut distracted by these students

The school buzzed with restless energy. Laughter, chatter, and the rustling of papers filled the halls as students hurriedly prepared for Report Card Day. Banners hung from the walls, and the scent of fresh flowers and polished floors lingered in the air.

Nana moved through the crowd with quiet indifference, her hands tucked into her pockets. Her steps were steady, focused on reaching the school hall where she was to receive an academic award.

But whispers followed her.

Students clustered in groups, faces glued to their phones, eyes darting toward her.

"Look, it's her!"

"Did you see the video?"

"I swear, she looks exactly like that girl from the museum!"

Screens flashed images of the viral TikTok video—side-by-side pictures of Nana and Akari, blending into one another with eerie precision. The captions screamed:

"Real-Life Legend? #AkariReborn #WhoIsShe"

Nana's jaw tightened as she caught glimpses of the video.

Someone stepped into her path.

"Hey, Nana! Is it true? Are you, like… related to that Akari girl?" a student asked eagerly, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Before she could respond, another voice chimed in, "Or maybe you're wearing her skin?" The question was half a joke, half a dare.

A hush fell over the group.

Nana slowly tilted her head, staring coldly at the boy.

"I wonder," she murmured, voice smooth but razor-sharp. "Would you like to find out?"

The boy paled, shrinking back into the crowd.

The air grew colder, the laughter nervously fading.

Without another word, Nana turned and continued toward the hall.

It was report card day, and the whole school was buzzing with excitement. Parents gathered in the hall, dressed up like they were attending a prestigious event, all eager to hear about their child's progress. Nana, however, was sitting alone in the back, slouched in her seat, her eyes scanning the crowd. The other students, surrounded by their parents, were chatting away, some nervously glancing at their report cards. But Nana… Nana didn't have that comfort. No parents to sit beside her, no one to exchange awkward glances with. Just her, staring at the stage like a reluctant spectator to her own life.

As the principal, a stiff, overly formal man, rambled on about the importance of academic excellence and student discipline, Nana's mind wandered. She couldn't care less about what he was saying. The words blurred together until her attention was drawn to the loud clapping that started. The principal was announcing the Best Student of the Semester award. Nana half-expected to hear someone else's name, but then… it came.

"Nana Sullivan!" the principal announced, as the room went silent, eyes on her.

The spotlight hit her, and for a moment, everything felt absurd. Why me? she thought, but she stood up, walked to the stage with the kind of confident swagger only someone like her could manage, completely ignoring the fact that she had no one to cheer her on.

As she approached the podium, she took the trophy with a nod, her face giving nothing away. She looked out at the sea of parents, the ones who had come to support their children. And in that moment, a hollow emptiness washed over her. But it didn't stop her from having fun with the situation.

The principal handed her the microphone. She took it, and as the audience went quiet in anticipation, Nana grinned. She glanced at the crowd of parents and students, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"First of all," she began, "I'd like to thank absolutely no one for this award. It's not like I actually needed help, right? All I had to do was show up and pretend I care. It's really not that hard."

The parents in the front row blinked, unsure whether she was joking or actually serious. A few uncomfortable chuckles rang out from the audience, but Nana didn't let that stop her.

"Now, I know what you're all thinking," she continued with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "This is what success looks like. You're probably thinking, 'Wow, she must be so smart, she's clearly going places.' But let's be real. I'm just good at reading the room—which, by the way, is a skill I perfected in the 'learning to survive without emotional support' club. If anyone's interested in joining, let me know, we meet at 3 AM every Tuesday. No parents allowed, of course."

A few parents laughed awkwardly, and some of the students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Nana paused dramatically, letting the awkward tension settle.

"And now, let me just say, I don't know why I'm standing here. I mean, I don't even have parents in the audience, so what's the point of being here, right?" She looked down at her hands, twirling the trophy. "But hey, who needs parents when you've got a killer GPA and the ability to roast everyone in the room without even trying?"

She glanced at Max in the crowd, who had his hand over his face in embarrassment, and smirked. "I'm just kidding, of course. If you're ever looking for a volunteer to help you with your homework… I'm definitely not that person. But I'll cheer you on from the sidelines as you struggle, that's the real support I can offer."

The audience was now a mix of uncomfortable laughter, confused glances, and some truly impressed parents who had never seen a student speak so… boldly in front of the entire school.

"But in all seriousness," Nana concluded, adjusting the trophy in her hands, "I don't care about the grades. Honestly. They don't define me. What defines me is my ability to make everything awkward and my natural gift for pretending I know exactly what's going on when, honestly, I'm just as confused as everyone else."

She gave a mock bow and stepped away from the microphone, smiling to herself as she walked off the stage. The applause was hesitant at first, but by the end, it was genuine. No one knew exactly how to process what had just happened, but it was clear that Nana had just left her mark on the whole event.

As Nana sat alone, lost in the weight of her thoughts, she heard footsteps approaching. Before she could react, a guy casually plopped down beside her, uninvited, but with the air of someone who had all the rights to be there.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.

Nana didn't even glance at him, her sunglasses still hiding the rawness in her eyes. "Nothing," she replied, keeping her voice flat.

"Don't lie to me. Are you crying?" His tone was more amused than concerned.

"Of course not," Nana shot back, a little too quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. "I heard your speech, and it was hilarious."

Nana finally turned her head, a small smirk curling on her lips. "Really? Thanks. You should take it as a life lesson," she said, trying to keep her sarcasm in check.

The guy shook his head, chuckling. "I don't think it's fine to give a speech like that in front of parents. I mean, it's rude."

Nana blinked, clearly unbothered. "If I cared, I would've cared about it. But clearly, I don't." She paused, her smirk widening. "Maybe you're just upset because I roasted you last time."

The guy blinked, stunned for a second, then broke into a grin. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But hey, I didn't know you were such a pro at roasting people."

Nana leaned back against the bench, crossing her arms. "Oh, you should see me go. I could start a career in it. If the whole 'being a top student' thing doesn't work out, I might just open a roast stand. You know, 'Nana's Roasts: Served Fresh and Spicy'."

The guy laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be so 'cool,' you're seriously messed up."

"I know, right?" Nana said with a wicked grin. "But hey, somebody's got to keep things interesting around here. Everyone else is busy being perfect, so why not?"

He looked at her, his amusement fading into something softer, though still teasing. "You know, you might want to work on that 'perfect' image too. Just saying."

Nana raised an eyebrow, her playful smile never fading. "I'll work on it when pigs fly. But hey, I have a question for you—why are you so concerned about me? You know I'm basically a walking disaster."

The guy shrugged, looking up at the sky. "Maybe I just think you're more complicated than you let on. But I guess we'll never know, huh?"

Nana let out a quiet laugh, her eyes softening just for a moment. "Yeah, maybe."

As the guy stood up to leave, he glanced back at her. "You know, if you ever feel like roasting someone else… I'm all for it."

"Only if you promise not to cry afterward," Nana called out, still smirking.

"Deal." He waved goodbye, and with that, he walked off.

Nana leaned back once more, feeling a small glimmer of warmth in her chest. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make her forget the ache of loneliness for a second. Maybe she wasn't as alone as she thought. Maybe there were more moments of unexpected connection to come.

A week later, the atmosphere around Nana had shifted from the carefree chaos of her usual antics to something far darker and more unsettling. The weight of her actions had finally caught up with her, and her playful facade began to crack as reality closed in on her from all sides.

It was a late afternoon when she found herself in a situation she never imagined. One moment, Nana was walking through the familiar streets of the city, enjoying the rare moment of solitude, the wind blowing softly through her hair. The next, she was being forcefully yanked into a black van, her scream muffled by a cloth pressed over her mouth. Her body thrashed against the strong arms that held her, but it was futile.

The van sped off, and the world outside blurred into nothingness.

When the van finally came to a stop, Nana was dragged out and shoved into an unfamiliar, dimly lit room. Her heart raced, fear creeping up her spine as she scanned the surroundings. It was an abandoned warehouse of sorts—cold, empty, with just enough light filtering in through the cracked windows to make the place look even more menacing.

They dragged her into a dark, crumbling building—the air thick with dust and the scent of rusted metal. Dim light leaked through fractured windows, casting fractured shadows across the empty space. It was an abandoned warehouse, hollow and suffocating.

Nana's boots scraped against the concrete as they shoved her forward.

At the far end of the room, a man lounged casually on a worn leather sofa, his legs crossed, a glass of dark liquor swirling in his hand. His salt-and-pepper hair and sharp suit contrasted with the filth of the warehouse. Mid-40s, but the cold glint in his eyes made him seem much older.

"Ah, the girl of the hour," he drawled, motioning to the seat across from him. "Come, sit. You must be tired."

A drink waited for her on the table. Untouched. Untrustworthy.

Nana stayed standing.

The man smirked. "I heard you're quite popular these days. Faces all over the internet, whispers in the streets."

Nana's gaze didn't waver. "What do you want from me?"

His smile thinned.

"Oh, nothing much. Just… what you remember."

Her brow twitched. "I failed my history exam."

Silence.

Then a chuckle from him. "Clever." He leaned forward, the glass tapping softly against the table. "But I'm talking about real history. The kind that doesn't get printed in textbooks."

He paused.

"The Forever Youth formula."

The words hung in the air like poison.

Nana blinked, then let out a soft laugh. "Forever Youth? What are you, a fairy tale villain?" She scoffed. "I don't know anything about that. You've got the wrong person."

The man's smile didn't falter.

"Haven't I?" He leaned back, studying her like a puzzle. "A girl with a mind sharp enough to invent the human-robot transformation… yet chooses to live a dull, simple life. You could've conquered the world, erased humanity, rebuilt it in steel and fire. But here you are. Hiding in plain sight."

Nana tilted her head, a slow smirk creeping in.

"Conquer the world?" she echoed, voice dripping with mockery. "Sounds exhausting."

He narrowed his eyes.

"So tell me, Nana… why are you even alive?"

Her smirk deepened, but behind it, something flickered.

"I wonder that myself," she murmured.

And for a moment, the room felt colder.

The man's smile faded, replaced by something colder. Slowly, he rose from the sofa, towering over Nana. Without warning, he grabbed her arm and forcefully dragged her down into the chair across from him.

Nana winced but stayed silent.

The man calmly poured a glass of dark liquor, sliding it across the table toward her.

"I don't mind if you don't want to share the secret with me," he said, voice smooth and unsettling. "But… I imagine you'd be interested in learning a thing or two about your school."

Nana's eyes narrowed. "The school?"

He chuckled. "Yes. That pristine little institution you call home." He leaned in, voice dropping. "I built that school. A perfect environment to prove to the world that I can make humans live longer than they ever dreamed. But…" he paused, eyes locking onto hers, "…it wouldn't work without you."

Nana scoffed, leaning back. "I don't care about your twisted government games."

Unbothered, the man smirked and straightened his suit. "Oh, the government?" He chuckled darkly. "They won't be around much longer. Soon, we'll take over. This country will kneel before us, and after that…" His grin widened. "The world. I want people to prostrate at my feet."

Nana stared at him, unimpressed. "Good luck with that. I'm not interested in your little empire."

The man's eyes darkened.

Then, they flicked to her metallic arm resting on the table.

His expression shifted.

"…You're her, aren't you?" His voice was barely a whisper. "Fujinami Akari."

Nana's expression didn't change. Calmly, she replied, "No."

Silence.

The man stared at her, disbelief flickering in his eyes. His composure cracked for a brief moment.

Then, his face twisted in frustration.

With a sharp snap of his fingers, the door slammed open. Several guards stormed in, weapons at the ready.

"Take her outside," he ordered, his tone icy. "Kill her."

The guards moved without hesitation.

As they grabbed her arms, the man sneered.

"I won't risk my plans on the wrong girl."

Nana's heart pounded, but her face remained still.

Wrong girl?

They dragged her toward the door.

But in that instant, something inside Nana shifted.

And the man would regret letting her live even this long.

The cold night air bit at Nana's skin as the guards dragged her outside. The crunch of their boots on gravel echoed in the emptiness.

One of them cocked his gun, the metallic click sharp in the silence.

"End it," the man's voice echoed behind them.

But before the trigger could be pulled, Nana twisted violently, slamming her elbow into one guard's ribs. He staggered, and in that split second, she ducked as the other fired—missing by inches.

The blast echoed through the night.

Nana sprinted into the darkness.

"After her!" the man roared.

Bullets whizzed past as Nana weaved between rusted crates and abandoned machinery. Her breath came in ragged gasps, adrenaline pounding in her veins.

She burst onto the main road, headlights blinding her.

SCREECH!

A car swerved too late.

The impact slammed into her side, hurling her body over the guardrail.

Her body crashed through branches, tumbling down the rocky cliffside.

Below, the jagged rocks loomed, and then—darkness.